


toska

by gothxclaudia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angels, Cemetery, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Flowers, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, coping/comfort kinda thing, mcyt - Freeform, pain just pure pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothxclaudia/pseuds/gothxclaudia
Summary: in which nick puts flowers on his lover's grave every day.sapnap x george𝙩𝙤𝙨𝙠𝙖;𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯, 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹, 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿, 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝘂𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗲𝘀, 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰, 𝗻𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗴𝗶𝗮, 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲-𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀.pure angst story, tags for tws
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62





	1. i

nature lets out a roar of thunder, lightning splitting the black sky in half. heavy raindrops fall from above, barely even soaking into the already wet grass. on nights like these, the majority of people would frown and close their blinds. even teenagers and clubbers would refrain from going outside, despite it being friday.

the few people that are unlucky enough to have been caught in the raging thunderstorm hurry to safety under shielding umbrellas. no one wants to stay out there, get their clothes wet and cold and catch pneumonia as a bonus.

but alone in the windy night walks a timid man, sneakers muddy and ruined. he’s the only one who isn’t at all fazed by mother nature’s wild rage. he doesn’t want to go home, huddle up under a warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate. his mind is set elsewhere.

despite his toes being ice cold and damp from the leaking rainwater, he walks on. he passes through the empty park, cutting across a usually green, grassy field that’s now turned brown instead, as a direct result of the horrid weather.

not far from where he is lies the town cemetery. it normally doesn’t get many visitors, especially not at this time of day. if you were out walking your dog in that park, and you saw the poorly dressed man tread through dark puddles and rough terrain, you’d never think he was headed to the cemetery. but as he gets closer and closer to the old rusted gates, you’d begin to understand.

for a man to travel on foot to the place of the dead in such awful conditions, something truly terrible must’ve happened to him. 

his stiff fingers open the cemetery gates, loud creaking and whining noises filling the air as they’re pushed forward. inside the perimeter - surrounded by a medieval stone wall - the atmosphere is different. it makes you shiver, but not because of the cold. it’s as if the howling of the wind and the roaring of thunder doesn’t quite reach into the area. like a lid has been placed on it, an aura of sorts.

maybe it’s god’s aura, the man thinks. god’s safety sheet, a sort of reassurance that he’s watching over the dead during all hours of the day.

he knows the route all too well at this point; past the bins, continue straight ahead on the gravel path, make a left turn after the mausoleum, a few more steps forward. and there, if you look to the right, is a naturally shaped gravestone, custom made from polished granite.

it stands among rows of similar pieces of rock, hidden in the mass. but despite its many similarities to the other graves, one simply couldn’t miss it if they happened to walk past. what sets that specific piece apart, is the many flowers planted in front of it, around it, growing happily without a care in the world, like the dirt they live off of isn’t tainted by death’s presence.

even if all of those flowers didn’t exist as indicators, the man could spot the resting place from far away.

his throat closes up as he kneels down in the soaking grass. he gazes upon the rock that has become his second home at this point, his best friend, as messed up as it seems. it’s squeaky clean even in this weather, surface smooth and void of imperfections. in sunlight it would shine, unlike many of the older gravestones in the cemetery.

the pretty flowers surrounding it are suffering in the harsh rain; some have lost their petals, or been bent in the wind. they’re not as colorful as they would usually be, not as lively and vibrant. the man wishes the storm could go away, so the pretty things can be left in peace. they’re almost as pretty as  _ him. _

but what is most remarkable about the shaped granite, or perhaps the most heartbreaking, is the text on its otherwise blank surface. inscribed in gold, it spells:

_ george davidson _

_ nov 1, 1996 - oct 26, 2020 _

definitely one of the newer additions to the cemetery grounds. the gravestone might not be older than a few weeks.

the man rubs his eyes, as if tears are already being shed. maybe it’s just the harsh wind that have made them watery.

he takes a few minutes to collect himself in silence. the raindrops aren’t falling as fast now, the lightning not echoing as loudly between the stone structures. he’s thankful for mother nature’s consideration, that she’s letting him mourn in peace.

his gaze falls on the golden letters, and he reads them over and over again until they don’t even look like words anymore. until the name seems strange, unfamiliar. but he knows that he will never forget it, no matter how many years - or even lifetimes - pass. he couldn’t, for it is ingrained in his mind, and in his heart and soul too, for that matter. nothing could take its place.

“hi george, it’s… nick.”

his voice is hoarse, weak. speaking has only been a bother lately.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t bring flowers today, it’s really late and the flower shop was closed.”

he looks at the drenched lillies with a lump in his throat. the tulips are withering, the forget-me-nots struggling to stay up. he curses once under his breath.

“i’m so sorry, i-i always bring flowers, i know..”

he sniffles, reaching out with his hand to touch something that isn’t there. 

“i swear i’ll make it up to you, okay? i’ll bring you roses or poppies tomorrow, i know you love them a lot.”

“other than that, uhm, nothing new has been happening. it’s just the same old.. work is boring. i sleep too much… yeah.”

“i-i hate coming home to an empty house every day. when i’m at work i always daydream, and- once my shift ends, i get so excited, because it feels like everything will be the same,” he mumbles, 

“it’s like.. i still have that little sliver of hope when i drive home, that hope that when i unlock the front door you’ll be there, you’ll come walking out of the kitchen with your apron on, the blue one that you loved so much… and the whole house will smell of newly cooked dinner, and you’ll give me a kiss, and ask how work has been.”

“but- but it’s never like that, a-and.. i don’t know how much longer my hope will last.”

a single tear trickles down his cold, red cheek. it hurts too much.

“i-i’m sorry.. i have to leave, it’s- i’m gonna freeze to death out here.”

“i’ll be back tomorrow as usual, i promise.”

a small, pained smile creeps up on his lips at just the thought of caring for george later, removing the withered flowers and replacing them with new, lively ones. maybe buying him a little gift, a teddy bear or something. it’s the one thing that still brings him joy in life, makes him feel like he has a purpose.

after the usual goodbyes, before he leaves to return home, he leans forward, kissing the inanimate gravestone like he would kiss his lover’s lips.


	2. wish

“good morning, honey.”

nick carefully sets the wrapped-up flowers down on the ground, as well as the dirty garden trowel.

“i got you some roses today.”

he smiles after he says that, knowing just how happy it would make his george. he would giggle and flash one of those blinding, toothy grins of his. he always did, every time nick bought him a bouquet. didn’t matter if it was the fourth time that week, if it was a gift for a special occasion or just a display of affection on a regular day.

george loved flowers so much.

in the summer, he’d look so pretty with a flower crown on, or with a daisy tucked behind his ear. nick especially liked the daisies, because they symbolize innocence and purity. so fitting for his baby, whose cautious, feminine ways always showed.

he smelled like beautiful flowers too, like a whole field of them. nick could never forget the sweet scent.

but despite his unusual reminiscence of them, he was so much more than they could ever be. you could gather all the flowers in the world; breathtaking orchids, vibrant pansies, carnations, buttercups, violets, and they would still never be nearly as gorgeous as his baby boy was.

“how’ve you been?” he wonders, slowly digging in the damp dirt, “i’ve not been doing the best… as usual.”

deep puddles of water still cover some spots after yesterday’s brutal rainfall. nick made sure to bring proper boots today, so he doesn’t have to ruin his already worn sneakers even more. not the most glamorous fit, but they work as intended.

“i slept like shit tonight. i don’t know if it was because of the storm or- something else. and i didn’t dream either.”

he digs up some withered lillies, throwing them in an empty plastic bag. they’re replaced by fresh red roses, so delicate and fragile. nick knows that this isn’t how gardening works, you can’t just stick a plant stem in dirt, but having to wait for seeds or flower bulbs to grow is way too tiring. george would have to go months without his pretty flowers, and that isn’t desirable.

“i like dreaming, even if they’re nightmares. it makes me feel something, anything. maybe that’s why i sleep so much.”

he carefully sticks them in a more solid part of the earth, making sure that they’ll stay upright. with the trowel he covers the hole, layers of protecting dirt supporting the virgin roses. they’ll wither too in some time, but it doesn’t matter, because he comes here daily with new flowers anyway.

“i used to never get nightmares before. when i held you in my arms.. nothing could hurt me. not even in my dreams.”

he sighs, taking a step back from the gravestone to look at it. at least the sun is reflecting off of its polished surface today, the gold writing shimmering in the light.

“do you have any strange dreams? d-do you ever dream of me?”

_ don’t cry again,  _ he pleads to himself.

“do you even sleep in heaven?” he giggles, forced, as if to stop the tears from flowing.

“maybe you don’t need to. i mean, heaven is supposed to be the perfect place, right? i’d imagine you don’t need sleep if you’re just floating on clouds all day.”

he smiles to himself. 

“but i guess i don’t know shit about that.”

“though i wish i could. i wish i could know how you have it.”

a bird lands on the ground, not far from where nick is sitting. it seems curious. curious as to why a human is lounging in the dirty grass, all alone. he only manages to catch a quick glance at it before it takes off again, spreading its small black wings and continuing its journey to nowhere.

“a-and i wish you could communicate with me.”

“i know you can hear me speak, but i want to hear you too.”

“i just wanna hear your voice again..”

he clutches the fabric of his hoodie as his chest tightens. memories come flooding in.

“it was so soft, and your accent was so beautiful.”

“when you got excited it rose in pitch and your- oh my god, your giggles… i can’t even begin to explain how much i loved them.”

his arms are tightly hugging his knees. the tears can’t be held back anymore, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. the lump in his throat is suffocating him, only growing bigger and bigger as he remembers his baby’s soothing voice.

“you giggled all the time, at the smallest of things. it made my heart flutter. how could anyone be cuter than that?”

“and the way you would smile when you saw me, when you ate your favorite food, or when you watched something funny on tv..”

“you- you just always seemed so happy, so carefree.”

“no one could cheer me up like you did.”

if only he could be there for real, reassuring him. telling him that everything will be alright. maybe not now, or tomorrow. but some day.

“i know i shouldn’t be sitting here just- wallowing in hurt but-”

“i’m sorry, okay? you hated seeing me cry…”

the rusted cemetery gates creak, gravel crackling under the soles of a stranger’s shoes. nick’s head perks up, his ugly sobbing cutting off for a brief moment as he listens.

“fuck- i have to go, i’m sorry.”

“i hate when there are other people here. i’m embarrassing myself if i sit on my ass and cry.”

“i-i just- please, give me a sign.”

he places his hand on his heart, gazing up at the bright blue sky where his lover watches over him.

“any sign. move a vase in the house. something. anything. please… i want to know if you’re there.”

brushing some dirt off of his pants, he gets up. his head spins, and for a second he almost loses his balance. 

what if george could see what a wreck he’s become?


	3. you

“george..”

he falls on his knees in front of the granite rock.

“i-i felt you, oh my god, i-”

his hands cover his mouth as tears threaten to spill.

“i was sitting in the kitchen, just eating a sandwich, a-and i felt something touch me.. i swear i did!”

he rambles desperately, not even caring for the tulips that have dropped to the ground.

“it was like- it was like a gust of wind, like it almost didn’t exist, but it brushed against my back like you used to do, exactly like you used to…”

“i-i felt your hand, i know i did!”

his chest aches, not only because he ran as fast as he could to the cemetery grounds after the event, but also because his heart is weeping. it’s shattering all over again, screaming in agony. pleading for its other half to come back. come back and calm it, love it until the end of times.

“i know i did…”

the pink flowers lay in the grass, wrapped up in plastic. they’re vibrant and cheerful, the only source of light in the crippling darkness that plagues nick. flowers are his only comfort now. they’re something for him to take care of, something that seals his heart and brings peace for at least a little while.

his house was full of plants when george lived, but it’s even more crowded now.

he looks up at the inscriptions on the gravestone, those letters that he’s gotten so used to. his eyes are puffy and red, his cheeks wet.

“maybe i’m just going fucking insane,” he mutters, “maybe it was just some mindfuck.”

“it could’ve been something i imagined, but.. i-i hope it was you.”

the leaves on the trees above rustle in the wind, one falls and lands near the resting place. it’s a sunny day, not too warm but not too cold either. nick decided to wear a plain hoodie, orange instead of the usual grey or brown. not that he left much time for choosing in the rush he was in.

the birds tweet and chirp, keeping him company where he sits, alone. he prefers to be alone nowadays, but nature isn’t a bother. it chains him down to earth, reminds him that he’s alive and breathing, that he exists. he’s afraid he’d forget if it wasn’t for the background noise; the wind, the trees, the animals. even the traffic sounds from the nearby roads help him.

it’s the thought of having to be around other humans that scares him. he was never an outgoing individual, but after losing george things have snowballed out of control. it’s like he doesn’t trust them anymore, doesn’t trust that they won’t leave him too. whether it is by cutting ties, or by dying.

kind of hypocritical, since he’s the one shutting everyone out of his life, making them leave. he hates himself for it. it’s a vicious circle with no end.

“anyways, uhh.. h-how’ve you been?”

he dries his tears, trying his best to cheer up.

“uhm, no news from me, i guess.”

“i’ve been to work, gone home.. laid in bed. and that’s about it.”

“it’s hard to find distractions.”

“i’ve tried some things, but..”

“i don’t know, it’s hard to stay on track and actually pick up hobbies.”

“i’m not that talented anyway.”

he runs a hand through his tangled hair, sighing. he really needs to get a haircut soon.

“my therapist suggested music, or maybe cooking…”

“but i suck at singing and cooking reminds me too much of you.”

“it feels like nothing will help me.”

“she keeps saying that it’ll get better, but i don’t know how much longer i can handle.. all of this,”

“how much longer i can hold on.”

biting his lip anxiously, he confesses to his lover what he could never tell another person.

“sometimes i…”

“want to do stupid things. drastic things. i get urges. usually i can fend them off but-”

“but i’m afraid that i’ll lose control one day.”

his breathing becomes labored, hands trembling in fear. fear of himself.

“there’s just- just not much to live for anymore.”

“i get out of bed in the morning every day, but for what?”

“nothing ever happens. nothing changes.”

“i live in a fucking bubble.”

“i wish i could still feel.”

he hits himself to stop the pain. to snap out of it.

“it’s so pathetic, isn’t it? it’s like you were the only thing i had in life.”

“i’m such a loser.”

but deep inside, nick feels a safety. george is his safety net. he could never hurt himself, because that’s not what george would want. it would break his fragile little angel heart.

george would want him to stay strong, power through the tough times. and even with his own fading hope, he can yearn for an end to the anguish, the grieving. long for it with the help of his lover.

only time will tell if that yearning is for nothing.

“i should plant these,” he mumbles, absentmindedly.

he digs a small hole in the dirt with his trowel, making sure that the pretty pink tulips won’t fall over. they join the collection with their pastel shade, however not standing out much amidst the cluster of colorful flowers. reds, blues, purples, yellows. 

george couldn’t see many colors, but he still loved them so.

as nick gathers the plastic from the flower wrapping, getting ready to say his goodbyes and leave, he feels something sweep across his back.

like the lightest, softest touch of a hand, the sensation travels from his right shoulder down to his left hip. like a subtle breeze, a gentle graze. he shivers, losing his breath. goosebumps appear along his arms.

“baby?”

he whispers it with a breaking voice.

and just as fast as it came, it disappears.

“baby..”


	4. could

“hey honey, i brought you poppies today.”

he smiles with joy, thinking back to the encounter in the flower shop.

“they’d just come in with a new delivery, so i could pick out the nicest bouquet for you.”

“and the lady that owns the place gave me a discount too! i think she knows the situation i’m in at this point, even though we’ve never talked much.”

the vibrant red flowers stand proudly in the grass, happy to serve as decoration and yet another sign of love and care. at least they’re fresh and newly picked, so they won’t wither so soon.

“uhm, today has been.. alright. i-i dreamt of you, actually.”

“it’s been a while since the last time i did. i don’t know why, because you’re all that’s on my mind.”

he cracks his knuckles, clearing his throat. just the thought of that vivid dream cheers him up, tugs at the corners of his lips.

“there were clouds.. a lot of clouds. the sky was a bright blue, and the sun cast rays over everything. it looked ethereal.”

“a-and on a small, fluffy cloud… i saw you. you were sitting on the edge of it, your legs dangling, your little feet hanging over nothing. you must’ve been so light to be sitting on a cloud like that, lighter than air even.”

“you looked at me curiously, grinning like you always used to do. and fuck, you were beautiful..”

“your hair was void of tangles, fluffy and a deeper brown than ever. your eyes were so gorgeous, like melted chocolate, so innocent and free. they glittered in the sunlight, lit up like a warm campfire.”

“your lips were wonderfully pink, smooth and not dry or chapped. and your skin, it looked so soft, so pale and pretty. i just wanted to reach out and touch it, but i couldn’t.”

“i-i remember every single inch of your body. how your hips curved, the shape of your cute thighs, your small waist, narrow shoulders, how stunningly dainty your bony hands were.. i wish i could hold it close to me again, i-i wish i could feel your warmth.”

his voice cracks as the vision of his lost lover keeps lingering.

“you were so heavenly…”

“almost more beautiful than on earth, if that’s even possible.”

“you sat there, looking pretty for minutes. i thought you couldn’t speak, but then you opened your mouth, a-and- and my heart skipped a beat. i heard you.. i heard you talk!”

“oh, how i missed that soft voice, and that adorable giggle of yours. your silly british accent, your scoffs and pauses…”

“yet i couldn’t understand a word of what you said. it sounded muffled, warped and corrupted somehow. like you were speaking gibberish.”

“but i’m so happy that you spoke at all.”

“and when you stopped, you- you spread your gorgeous white wings, much too big for your body, and you flew… you flew away. you left that little cloud and soared, wild and free through the clear blue sky.”

“the scene was breathtaking.. you spun around, turned left and right, up and down. i can’t describe it, i just- you took my breath away. it was the greatest thing i’d ever seen.”

“you laughed and shouted, full of joy and energy. i’ve never seen you so carefree before, i’ve never seen that kind of elation in your eyes. for once, you seemed content, unconfined and just- at peace.”

“nothing could hurt you when you flew, grazing the cotton candy clouds with your fingertips. you didn’t have a care in the world, not a bother.”

“after that, i woke up. i was sweating, but full of relief at the same time. upset that it was just a dream, i guess.”

he chuckles quietly to himself.

“i’m such a stupid dreamer.”

the gold inscriptions on the granite are becoming more dull from earth’s natural dust. he wiped them down just last week, but they’re already losing some of their shine. they have to sparkle as brightly as the sun, otherwise they’re not clean enough.

usually he’d carry a cloth with him, but he must’ve forgotten it at home today. he cringes at his own mistake.

“i guess i feel a little better about everything now,” he sighs, “it just- it was comforting, somehow.”

“i hope that’s what you actually live like. i hope they treat you better in heaven.”

he rips a straw of grass from the ground, tearing it in half and fiddling with it, not really caring if it’ll make him bleed.

“i hope the angels are nice to you. and that you can do whatever you want, fly around until sunrise, sleep all day, watch over the humans.”

“you deserve it.”

he smiles again, ignoring the hurt in his heart.

“you deserve everything. i know you’re the prettiest angel up there, you’re the sweetest soul.”

“i can see it in front of me, how you’re laying on your own cloud, curled up like a little puppy with your knees to your chest. your wings are wrapped around you like a protecting blanket, and you breathe so quietly that you almost can’t hear it. you’re safe.”

“a-and i wish i could be right there with you. holding you in my arms, kissing the back of your neck, singing you a lullaby, running my fingers through your silky hair.. i’d let you lay under my wing, i’d- i’d guard you…”

a small prick of blood appears on his finger, slowly trickling down his cold skin.

“fuck-” he curses, “and i’d keep my warm wings sealed around you while you rest, i’d stroke your sensitive skin with them, share all my love with you. it could be so wonderful.”

his gaze drifts away into the distance, focusing on nothing. a comforting feeling washes over his mind, his body relaxing as he lays on his back in the damp grass. he feels faded, almost out of touch with reality as he dreams.

he sees heaven when he shuts his eyes. his hands try to reach out and touch it, but above him is only air.

he chuckles like he’s gone crazy, like he’s high. to an outsider it would probably seem that way.

it goes on for a good while, a disturbing minute. he doesn’t know what’s so funny, but whatever it is, it makes him happy. it’s better than reality and the bitter truth. he doesn’t look at all the graves surrounding him, that would ruin the perfect illusion.

when the chuckles finally stop, a grin still decorates his expression. it feels too good.

he sighs.

“but i know you don’t want that.”


	5. see

“i’m sorry i was gone.”

he crouches down, hanging his head in shame.

“i’m so sorry angel..”

“and the flowers are all wilted, f-fuck, i-”

his heart pangs with guilt.

“i didn’t even get you new ones…”

“i hope you- i hope you can forgive me. i’ll bring you so many bouquets next time, i promise.”

he sniffles and presents a lopsided smile, ignoring the sense of irresponsibility that’s slowly wanting to tear him apart.

“you deserve every single flower in the world.”

“that and more.”

the chilly winds brush past nick’s red, flushed cheeks. they mess up his hair, like it wasn’t already messy before. he rubs his hands together to try and keep them warm.

“i’ve just- been really busy with work lately. they’ve brought in a bunch of new recruits and stuff to the office, and we’ve had to show them around the place. i’ve held a lot of meetings and classes and it’s been so tiring.”

“you know that speaking in front of people isn’t my strong side either. sometimes it just makes me wanna sink through the floor. disappear, i guess.”

“no one even talks to me casually anymore, it’s only about work, only when they need to. i guess they never did before either but, it’s worse than ever now.”

“and when someone finally does muster up enough courage to speak to the depressed, hurt office boy, they’re so… belittling. i-i’m sure they don’t mean it, but they tip toe around me like i’m more sensitive than a thin glass vase.”

“i don’t want their pity. i just want everything to be normal again.”

he sighs in frustration, glancing up at the cloudy afternoon sky.

“i wish i had a friend who understood me. you were the only one that did..”

“you understood the real me. loved me for who i was. there aren’t many people like that out there, but you were one of them.”

“it meant the world to me, that someone could finally appreciate me and my efforts to stay on track. thank you so much for that.”

he chuckles pathetically, “i’ve probably said that so many times already, but i’m saying it again.”

apart from the wind, not much noise interrupts his moment. only a few cars pass on the roads nearby. most people have probably decided to stay indoors on a grey saturday like this one. nick would’ve too, if it wasn’t for george. and his guilty conscience, the fact that it’s been days since he visited him last.

he shivers intensely. he really should’ve brought a jacket. it’s not unusual that he forgets, especially when there’s no one around to remind him. george would’ve gasped and grabbed one right off the coat hanger, quite literally throwing it in his face on the way out. and if he’d come home in cold weather without one, he’d be met with a death glare and scolding words.

george was like a mother from that perspective, always worrying and caring for their child, their treasure. but unlike a strict parent, he’d always shower nick in kisses and cuddles afterwards, not actually mad at him for forgetting such a small thing.

and if he had been really good, george would even let nick do dirty things to him. he misses those heavenly nights the most, when he got to hold his angel close, got to have him for himself in his bed. nothing else would exist besides the two of them, their intertwining bodies and merging souls.  _ his george. _

he drags his fingers across the trimmed grass, and for a second it feels smooth and silky, just like his angel’s dark hair. but as usual, it’s nothing more than a sad illusion. in reality, the straws are choppy and rough against his fingertips, not like george’s soft locks.

“you cared for me so much.. cooked me dinner every day, cleaned the house when needed, washed and ironed my clothes, everything… you did everything for me.”

“you were like a housewife,” he scoffs, “i remember that i told you that jokingly once, but you didn’t see it as a joke. you  _ wanted  _ to be my housewife. you dedicated your life to caring for me, and i never understood why.”

“i just wish- i wish i could’ve cared for you in the same way. i loved you so, but it was never enough.”

“though you wouldn’t want me blaming myself, would you?”

“i can almost see you up there, sitting on your favorite cloud and looking down on me as we speak.”

“when i smile, you smile. when i’m tired, you’re tired. when i’m anxious, you’re anxious. you must not smile very often.”

“if i was there with you, i’d wipe away your angel tears, and tell you that you’ll be okay, but you’d never stop crying unless i did too.”

“i know you share my pain. and i don’t want to hurt you anymore, my angel.”

he smiles. an honest, real smile, because he wants his baby to smile too.

“i’ll try my best, okay? i’ll try my best to live the life that you never had.”

“just bear with me.”

“it won’t be easy, so please give me time. just a while more with tears and hurt, then i promise happiness will come our way. i promise.”

another icy gust of wind blows by, goosebumps rising on his arms. he thinks he can hear the cemetery gates creak, whether it’s the wind’s trickery or another human’s doing.

“it’s really getting cold, i’m sorry. i-i wish you could be here to heat me up. then i wouldn’t need a stupid jacket.”

he gets up, hugging himself to temporarily put a damper on the sensation.

“uhm, well, what kind of flowers do you want tomorrow? peonies, maybe? it’s been a while since i got you those.”

faint sounds of gravel crackling approaches from behind the mausoleum. nick needs to get out.

“okay, someone’s here. i’ll- i’ll see you tomorrow, honey.”

he throws one last glance at the inanimate gravestone; the inscriptions, the patterns in the granite.

“i love you. so, so much.”


	6. me

“hi georgie,” he hums, his voice a little unsteady, “i…”

“i met someone.”

he plants the new flowers as usual.

“i-i did.”

“he’s.. an intern at the office. just started working there like a few weeks ago. a-and..”

“he’s been really kind to me. we’ve talked a lot. he invited me to his house last night.”

nick grins just thinking back at it.

“i’ve opened up to him. and uhm, he knows about you, about everything.”

“he’s so patient with me. no one has ever treated me like, like that. not since you.. passed.”

“i-i think he’s really cute too,” he giggles.

just thinking about the guy makes nick’s heart flutter, turns him into an awkward, blushy mess. he knows that feeling all too well.

“i could try and describe him, uhh.. he’s got these beautiful emerald green eyes, golden blond hair that’s wavy and fluffy, a bunch of adorable freckles scattered under his eyes, pink, soft lips, almost like yours. and his skin is so wonderfully golden too, and he’s really tall, like way taller than me.”

“i love his laugh so much, the way he speaks and everything. he makes me happy.”

“his name is clay.”

the white roses sway peacefully in the wind.

“he’s- he’s nothing like you, no one could ever be like you.. yet he reminds me so much of how you were, how you made me feel.”

“i get butterflies every time he looks my way. it’s so liberating after months of being numb.”

“and therapy is going better too, now that there’s finally a purpose to my life.”

he runs a hand through his hair, sighing contently. it’s nowhere near warm outside, but he isn’t freezing like usual when he visits george.

“see? i promised things would improve. i know you share my happiness.”

“you can watch me get through every day with a smile on your face now. maybe see me get some friends, going out and having fun with them.”

“i know you’d want that. i know you’d- you’d want me to move on.”

“you wouldn’t want me to focus on the past, and what i don’t have, right?”

“you’d want me to live on, even if it’s without you.”

he feels like crying again, tears filled with mixed emotions. nostalgia, grieving and sadness, but also love, elation, freedom and self-improvement. things will get better, he knows it for sure now.

the birds in the trees above chirp like they always do, but they sound different now. nick used to correlate their singing with nothing but despair and darkness. the blackbirds seemed like death himself, like they brought a terrible fog with them every time they flew over his head. 

but their black feathers don’t seem so threatening anymore. he’s started to see the beauty in the way they flap their wings, in the way they sing and chitter through the raw morning air. everything seems to be clearing up.  _ it will be okay. one day it will. _

“i-i think that- that i’m falling for him.”

“i don’t know but, it feels right in my heart. he makes me blush, he makes my body tingle.. just like you did.”

“i think he knows that i like him. he seems to know everything, honestly.”

“and he understands that i need time. he’s stuck around with me for so long already, he’s so patient, like he’s just waiting for the day when i’m ready to love him.”

“but i don’t know if i’ll ever be ready.”

the weight on his chest is uncomfortable. he wants it gone, yet he pushes through with his words.

“i’ll try my best. i swear i will.”

“i’m so afraid of losing him too. but… maybe one day.”

“one day i’ll let him into my dumb life for real.”

“he could show me how to love again.”

“i know love can’t cure me but, it’s a step in the right direction at least.”

“my therapist will be so happy when she finds out..”

he chuckles at his own dreamy tone. those chuckles soon grow into genuine laughter. he doesn’t know what’s so funny, but it’s relieving. everything is relieving.

“i bet she’d cry out of joy, she’d be like, ‘finally this fucker is getting his life together so i won’t have to deal with him anymore!’”

“oh my god, that’d actually be hilarious, i bet that’s exactly what she’s thinking in her head every time i come in there.”

“i can’t wait til the day i just get to say fuck you and leave that stupid therapist office forever.”

“it’ll be a glorious day. you’ll celebrate it too, i just know it, oh man..”   
  


he wipes away a stray tear that’s escaped amidst his moment of euphoria. the lasting high it’s gifted him with is bliss too. similar little gaps of light have been sneaking back lately, coming back into his life. it’s like the pesky blinds that have kept everything dark for so long now are finally breaking apart.

and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“but georgie,” he sighs, “i love you so much. you’ll always have a special place in my heart, alright? don’t you worry about that.”

he smiles up at the sky, just one last time.

“you’ll forever be my angel.”


	7. now

the cemetery had once been a familiar place to him, almost like a safe space. he could never feel at peace anywhere else; not at work, not in the backyard garden, not even in the flower field that he had frequently visited ever since his childhood.

at night in bed, haunting memories plagued his fragile conscience. even if those memories were good ones, of happy times, they messed with his tormented mind. they would never leave him alone.

but inside of the medieval stone walls, built by hand though steadier than most of the town’s modern structures, he could finally feel safe. nowhere was as tranquil as that grassy spot that laid past the bins, then straight ahead on the gravel path, a left turn after the mausoleum, and a few more steps forward, to the right. 

that’s where he would sit for sometimes hours on end, crying and wallowing in lost memories. mourning his dead lover, whose presence in the world had been reduced to only a cold, granite gravestone.

george’s resting place was hardly difficult to miss, with its many colorful flowers sprouting up from the ground. a lot of the other graves had flowers too, but not nearly as many as george’s. lillies, orchids, tulips, forget me nots, everything that you could think of. at one point, they’d all been growing there, under the sun’s nourishing rays.

but as he approaches the piece of rock once more, only brown dirt serves as its decor. no flower has grown here for a long time, except for the occasional unwanted dandelion. the grave blends in with all the others, all the other forgotten ones that no one had time to care for.

yet he could never forget george.

“hey,” he starts, clearing his hoarse throat, “it’s been so long.”

“god, this feels weird.”

“reminds me of worse times.”

he scoffs, playing with the ring on his finger.

“yesterday, oh, you should’ve seen it..”

“i got married. i finally did. i did it, george!”

“i got married to the man i’ve loved for so long.”

“it was… how do i even describe it?”

he blinks away the tears. tears of joy.

“it was.. magical. the best day of my life.”

“i wish you could’ve been there, you would’ve torn up.”

“but at least i hope you got to watch it from heaven.”

“i know you’re over the moon now, i just know it!”

he laughs, basking in his unstoppable elation.

“i know that you’re so happy for me.”

a thorn pricks his finger when he loses focus, and he swears under his breath before laughing that off too.

“i almost gave up. i almost didn’t make it out. but fucking hell, was it worth it.”

“everything worked out in the end. just like i promised.”

the perfectly white cloth becomes stained with grey dust as he wipes the granite. the inscriptions shine brighter again, glitter in the warming sunlight. somewhere deep inside his heart he feels bad. he feels terrible for letting it become dusty like that, for neglecting its surroundings. but his mind knows that it was for the best.

“clay takes such good care of me. i still have bad days sometimes, but they’re becoming fewer and fewer. he knows just how to cheer me up, get me distracted.”

“i’m so thankful for him. he’s like an angel, but the kind that’s still on earth, you know?”

“i owe him a shit ton, honestly.”

he stays quiet for minutes, old images of his first love flooding his brain. how they met in the cafeteria, became best friends, and eventually high school sweethearts. how they shared their first kiss in a dirty bathroom stall, how they danced together in the rain that one night, how they slowly fell head over heels for each other.

“georgie..” he whispers, “i’m in love again, but i’ll never forget you, okay?”

“i-i’ll never forget your smile, your giggle, your chocolate eyes.”

he leans forward, reaching his hand out to place the singular rose in the dirt. his fingers release their grip around its stem carefully, eventually letting it fall. he chose the most vibrant red rose there was, the most beautiful one.

“i swear.”

taking a deep breath, he gets up off his knees again. 

“i’ll love you forever.”

as he steps back a little, protecting arms wrap around his waist from behind. a warm body presses up against his own, soft lips lovingly kissing the back of his neck. his husband’s light humming calms him down.

“you’re so brave, honey.”

**the end <3**


End file.
